


Bonded and Whole

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Series: Marie's BBB Fills 2019 [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU - Established Relationship, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Kissing, Like, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Omega Bucky Barnes, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, all the rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 21:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18646627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Steve has a passion for a certain part of his mate's anatomy and there isn't much that can keep him from indulging in it every now and then. Bucky's fine with the idea too.Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 Fill, K5: "AU: ABO"





	Bonded and Whole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenalunera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenalunera/gifts).



> Fifth (?) fill for the BBB and hm, it's quite self-indulgent here but also a gift so I guess it makes it at least a _little_ fine? ^^ Anyway, hope you like it!
> 
> For you, not a surprise but still, I told you, this one's yours perfect turtle bud SerenaLunera <3

The sheets rustle under him, the bed posts clink on the wall repeatedly, answering rattles echo from the wood planks of the bed structure and into the room. Those would be the only sounds if it weren't for the two men hard at work in the middle of it all. Because they're very much here and have been for the better part of an hour, the sounds of the furniture creaking and squeaking are but faint compared to those which fill the air till it's heavy, and hot, and buzzing with an energy you wouldn't expose just anyone to.

He started on all fours and is now resting his head in a nest made of his arms, his forehead slipping on the cool metal with how much he's sweating as he mewls his pleasure there. His legs are bent at the knees and they are ready to scream from the exertion of the position and how much his muscles have been contracted and relaxed, on repeat for as long as they've made it to their room.

He's practically ready to beg, for what he doesn't know and he won't ever know, he can't really think straight and when it's all over, if it ever is, he won't remember enough of the fog his mind is swirling into right now. All he'll know is just how elating an orgasm afterglow is, how transported it always renders him and he'll smile and not even try to think it through. He'll be cradled and cuddled by arms so thin and yet so strong. He'll be kissed and praised against any available and reachable inch of his skin and he'll bask and not wonder.

He's not sure if he's making any sense, not even sure if what comes out of his mouth is actually intelligible, much less forms any kind of understandable sentence. All it feels like is an endless stream of his pleasure that makes his tongue plow and dance to the rhythm of Steve's mouth against his rim. 

It's not something he's used to, he'll never get used to it - he isn't trying to either - this passion Steve has for eating his ass and never relenting till all Bucky can do is bow and try to fuck the mattress in his frenzy or cry out and beg for a more he doesn't need because he's already coming and Steve is chuckling against the back of his thigh.

Today had been going as normally as it could when you were both part of the avengers, no real mission to partake in, no real reunion to join in, nothing much. But Bucky had known from the moment he'd come out of the showers after a few rounds of sparring and he'd met Steve's eyes on him, glued and lewd, promising or rather, telling.

Then it had just been a matter of dodging others and making their way back to the night part of the compound, back to their own room that was more of a suite than anything else. It had all been a matter of Steve showing Bucky once more that even though he was still tiny as ever, his arms held the same if not more strength than his own. It was Steve pushing Bucky inside and ripping the bathrobe off him, practically throwing him on the bed and once there, manhandling his body as he pleased and taking what he wanted. 

Bucky gaped and gasped the whole time and after a hot minute of having swirling thoughts of confusion, he'd seen where this was all going and waited for the onslaught of sensation.

Being mated to Steve was about not having a day pass without surprises, being mated to Steve was about having your needs met before you even knew they were there and Bucky leaned his head back on his folded arms at the first lap of tongue on the meat of his inner thigh. He was already dripping, always was, and Steve had growled and Bucky had whined and they'd been off and haven't let on since. Or they did but Bucky doesn't see it that way, not when Steve's been edging him for more time than it takes to make him go mad three times over.

He's a weeping mess by the time his third chance at orgasming is taken away from him and Steve huffs in amusement and Bucky doesn't dare look back at him because he knows that with how hard he is right now, even just a look at the evident mess of Steve's face would actually hurt his dick more than add to the experience. He's sure it would give that one head a whiplash and that's a no-go. So he stays put and cries on, ever so grateful for the coolness of his metal arm against his burning skin. 

He feels hotter than hot all over. His toes are twitching against the sheets and he keeps flexing his hands and biceps alike as if on reflex, he can't control it, he doesn't have control over anything right now. 

He wants so badly to regain some kind of capacity to talk so he can yell at Steve and maybe curse him to let him go over the edge but his brain feels like goo and his eyes are screwed shut so he can't even try and glare him down. Nothing to do but wait for Steve - the Steve that's only made of a mouth and tongue and teeth and the occasional finger and nails and hot breath, all the rest has faded black and Bucky is so aware of every ridge and callous and chapping it's electrifying and terrifying all at once.

Steve is indulging his own fantasy of trying to push Bucky past his limits and it's working.

His face is buried deep between his mate's cheeks and there's nothing more delicious than the slick of him that keeps pouring onto his tongue in endless supplies. Nothing more exhilarating than to know this is the reaction he can get from Bucky's body, this, the reaction he can get from Bucky's mind. There's nothing more satisfying than the taste of him invading Steve's mouth and throat so hard and fast-spreading that he thinks he can almost feel it in his veins - a mellow, gentle but strong still spark that courses in his blood and races against the pace of the breaths Steve tries to remember to take in regularly enough.

He can't keep in his growls nor can he prevent his hand from trying to grip at every inch of meaty skin next and around him. Cheeks and hips and thighs and even feet, his thin fingers thread through the hairs on Bucky's legs and part the man's cheeks with a possessive streak that he knows no one else could have brought out of him. Steve's mouth eats and licks and drinks at the fountain that is his mate and doesn't know if he will ever stop. His tongue swipes and strokes over the puckered folds of skin in the man's center and he feels powerful and safe all at once, the permanent dichotomy of their relationship. 

Steve kisses along the crack of Bucky's ass, sloppy wet from both saliva and slick, two essences mingling to create the scent of them and no one else. The bed posts keep creaking and Steve smiles as he nibbles here and there on the puffy red rim that gapes slightly from all it's already gone through and that's both the most beautiful sight and not enough. Steve plunders the hole that's his with the desperation of the thirsty and the fascination of the passionate, he laps and fucks, he strokes and blows soft air upon it. 

He could probably go on for another easy couple of hours but he's decided he'll work Bucky up to it, maybe tomorrow, maybe in years. He's just savoring this last time for today before he lets go and lets his lover get what he wants and needs probably at a painful level by now.

It's not a hardship by any means, giving Bucky what he wants. Not when having him come gives Steve the most excitement and satisfaction he's ever experienced, every time. Because it's a cliché and yet it's true, Bucky is the silent type, ticks most boxes for the part and yet, in the confines of their room, in the secrecy of Steve's arms and ears, Bucky goes off and wild and it's all at once the most precious thing Steve's ever received and the most beautiful, the most rewarding. If life worked as such, Steve would gladly bring him pleasure, drag him with slow strokes and wicked strikes alike up to the edge and over it again and again day and night and forever. It's not, so they make the most of the little time they're able to grasp here and there, fireworks always in the waiting, always at the ready. Launchable bursts of ecstasy at the tip of his tongue Steve gives and will howl before he lets Bucky lift a finger when it's all about him, always is.

A lap between heated mounds of flesh and across a strip of skin he could draw with his eyes closed - which they are right now as he delights in the feel and taste of his mate, fully aware that any and all of his animal instincts are alight and in charge. Teeth bared at times give another layer of sensation to the weeping, sobbing arousal of the man Steve holds with lips and soft touches. His nose is buried so deep into the action he can't breathe from there, can't breathe at all with how busy he keeps his mouth, all airways blocked by his enterprise and it's elevating too, it would resemble an out-of-body experience if he wasn't so attuned to everything that's happening at his hand and around him. It seems the room itself is keeping quiet so Bucky's pleas and supplication can reach and be heard by Steve's ears, already filled by the noise he makes sucking and drooling on skin, making a mess of himself, encouraging the mess of Bucky's ass.

The slick of him is Steve's addiction, the smell of him Steve's air. The way the rim squeezes all around his tongue as Steve dives in time and again, never slowing down now that his decision has been made, the way the back of Bucky's thighs wither under Steve's palms, all of it is intoxicating and there's nothing he wants to do more than live there, his face disappearing in his project of driving Bucky mad by way of rimming him for days.

When Bucky does come he gets flippant with his curses and his sobbing gets louder and louder and thank God the room is soundproof, Steve could never ask him to be discreet. This is not just music to his ears but literally the soundtrack he wants for the movie that is their lives together, intertwined and breathing in tandem. Their lungs are whizzing in sync and the bed is about ready to give out from under them - it will, someday - and Steve goes on and on as Bucky's whole body goes stiff with climax, hard as vibranium maybe, as impossibly hot as the sun probably. Bucky’s arms now not only cradle his head but encase it, his hands wound together atop the back of his neck and squeezing as he shouts in exploding relief and white shoots across the sheets and omega juice spurts further down Steve's throat and he drinks on and on till it's but a dribble and even that he licks away and into his mouth to keep and savor. 

After the fact Bucky's heart still beats as fast as the animal inside Steve's rib cage and they breathe long and rapid still draws of air, oxygen that isn't each other but which they need with an impossible urge now that the peek has been granted and reached.

Steve is grinning through the chaos that goes from his nose to his chin and maybe even his neck. His teeth flash in the now low-light of the fading afternoon and Bucky flops to the side when his mind plugs back in enough to move.  The sheets and his mid-length jet black hair the same disarrayed strands of love and frenzy. His eyes glow with the shine of his serotonin levels, to the roof and reaching for the stars.

He extends his arms, sore as they are, towards Steve and it's a new dance they always manage, no matter where they are and how long they have to indulge in it. They have all the time in the world or so it seems with how slow today has been and they're intent on taking in as much of each other's warmth and scent, bottle it up and keep it close and that's what Steve does. He moves closer, until he's pressed up against Bucky's back, both arms circling the man's waist at its thinnest and squeezing, hands resting atop Bucky's stomach and drawing patterns he can't be bothered to define. Their combined breaths slow down and stay as synced up as ever even as they go on dozing in their embrace. There's no other place for them but the one they've carved for each other, for the shape of their bodies as they confound with one another and limbs are braids of heat and bonding. 

Steve mouthes incoherent and silent words at the nape of Bucky's neck, his skin clammy with sweat and it’s glorious and there isn’t anything else left to do but fall asleep together, Steve’s clothed body pressed and rocking gently with Bucky’s bare form following every last one of his movements. 

It’s soft and it’s not the first time, won’t be the last but each is always a new occurrence affirming just how complete and all-fulfilling the bond that links them, body and mind and hands and eyes is. Strong, solid, hard, the image of them, printed out and stitched into the red skin of their hearts, into the tissue of their lungs as they breathe unnecessary declarations, wrung together with the invisible rope that’s ever pulling them together, not an inch of their beings separate from the other. Whole.

**Author's Note:**

> more and more and more coming soon ;)
> 
> Also, find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hogwartstoalexandria)


End file.
